Page 110 of Deadly Secrets

What were the odds of us getting an Uber at the airport with the slowest driver in the whole country?

We had been trying to reach Sienna ever since I heard the message she left on my phone last night, but all our calls consistently went straight to her voicemail. We dialed her number on our way to the apartment, during our journey to the airport, before takeoff, and after we landed. To be honest, we were fucking worried; it wasn’t like her to ghost us or ignore her phone for such a long period.

Each time I heard her voice, I felt sick to my stomach. She seemed incredibly distressed and frightened, and my only wish was to hold her close and reassure her that everything would turn out fine. Although I contemplated calling my father, I decided to wait until I heard everything Sienna had to share before confronting him.

“Calm down, Ander; I’m sure Sienna’s fine. Maggie was spending the night with her, so I’m sure she’s not alone, and there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation as to why her phone is turned off.” Zayn had tried his best to keep me grounded since we left Los Angeles with little success.

“Maybe she left her charger back in Port Chester and ran out of battery,” Noah added.

“Then why hasn’t she texted me or called me from Maggie’s phone? What if something has happened to them? I should’ve gone to Port Chester with her.”

“She wanted to go on her own. You did the right thing. We did,” Zayn replied.

I knew he was right, but something was wrong. I could feel it.

We arrived at the apartment fifteen minutes later, and I almost jumped out of the car while it was still coming to a halt. Zayn and Noah stayed behind, paying our driver and taking care of the luggage as I called for the elevator.

“It won’t arrive any faster.”

I glanced to my right and managed a tight smile at Mrs. Green, one of my neighbors. She had evidently noticed my repeated pressing of the call button roughly twenty times in just fifteen seconds.

Ding.

The doors opened, and I rushed inside, followed by Mrs. Green, who stopped a couple of floors earlier than me. As soon as I stepped inside the apartment, I couldn’t contain my anxiety, and I immediately called out for Sienna.

“Sienna! SIENNA! Are you here?” My heart was racing as I hurried into the living room, but she wasn’t there. Without wasting a moment, I headed straight for her bedroom, all the while repeating, “Sienna, are you home?” The worry gnawed at me with every passing second, making each step feel heavier than the last. Her luggage sat in the room alongside her beloved tote bag. Her laptop was opened and resting on her bed.

“Is she in there?” Noah inquired from the hallway, but his words barely registered in my ears. My attention was fixated on the crimson stains that decorated the white comforter and spilled onto the floor. It was as if I were submerged underwater, and all external sounds had been muffled.

“Ander, Ander! Dammit, Ander!” Zayn seized my shoulders and jolted me back to reality.

“There’s so much blood.” Those were the only words I could muster before Zayn and Noah laid eyes on the pool of blood themselves.

“Oh, fuck.” Zayn’s eyes widened as he let go of me. “Mm-maybe there was an accident, and Maggie took Sienna to a hospital, right?”

“Maggie’s phone is still off. I have DM’d her several times on her IG since we left LA, but she hasn’t checked her socials either,” I explained.

“I have a plan,” Noah announced. “Ander, you and I will call all the Emergency Rooms from every damn clinic within a one-mile radius of this apartment. If there was an accident, Sienna or Maggie would have gone to the closest one. We’ll ask for Sienna Moore and Maggie or Margaret Towerby. Zayn, do you still have the number of the girl you fucked from Administration last year?”

“Yes, why?”

“Call her, use your charm, and get Maggie’s dorm and her room number. Now.”

* * *

I had already tried five different clinics without success. We continued attempting to reach Sienna on her phone, but both her and Maggie’s phones remained switched off. Maggie hadn’t yet seen my DMs.

Noah sounded more desperate with each phone call. The more time passed, and the more I thought about the blood in her room, the more certain I became that the stalker was behind this. That they came when both were alone. I straightened my spine and reminded myself that I couldn’t afford my thoughts to go down that path. It was a dangerous one. A path where all I could see was red. A path where I could imagine myself burning the whole world to get my girl back. Our girl.

“Guys,” Zayn called us from the kitchen island. “Guys!”

“Okay. Thanks for checking.” Noah ended the call and lifted his head to look at Zayn. “What? I was on a call, dickhead.”

“I’ve just had a conversation with Emily from administration. She went through their database and couldn’t locate any student matching the names Maggie, Margaret, Margarita, Marjorie, or Margot Towerby. She explored all possible combinations and found only one other Towerby, Dominic Towerby. So I can only consider three possibilities: one, Maggie has a cock between her legs, and she has successfully hidden this fact from us for months; two, she may have lied about her real name; and three, she’s not an enrolled student at Stanford. Considering how she dresses, my bets are with options two and three, and I don’t like any of them.”

“Why would she lie about her name or about being a student here?” I asked.

“What we should be asking ourselves is, why didn’t Maggie or Sienna give us a call or leave a note if there was an accident?” Noah challenged.

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